It's fitting that I end 2004 sick for 10 days straight.

Thinking back, 2004 kinda sucked.

I hope everyone enjoys their new year's.

I'll hit you with my 10 favorite songs and albums of the year soon.

Here's to 2005.

I hope everybody had a wonderul Christmas.  Despite being plagued with the

flu and a few (expected) insane family outbursts it was an enjoyable time

for me.  I ate well and my various Santa Claus' were very good to me. I

also watched Napoleon Dynamite twice (once while drunk) and found it very

much ot my liking.  It was just... nice.  *



The internet is always lousy the week after Christmas.  Every website goes

on vacation.  My workload this week is insanely small and without the likes

of penny arcade, gamespot, etc. digitally enlightening me it's a struggle

to keep my eyes open.  I also left my iPod at a friends house in a hungover

fog last week.  I can typically use my little white earbuds of joy as a way

of stating things along this lines of, "i'm not interested in hearing what

you got your cat for christmas"... but now I'm defenseless and vulnerable.

And still carrying a little bit o' that flu around.



I'd like to thank Paul for updating lately.  I like pictures.  If I had a

digital camera I would take some, too. *



I'm really writing songs again.  Really.  And they sound like 1996 or so.

1996 was a good year.  I got all A's, made the basketball team, and bought

my first guitar.  I'm hoping that these songs will end up being good as

well. *



Cheers.

more pictures for your fancy:
antdawg
hatefu
ilovepeteee
newscarf
nicepants
ohholygod
petesbath
puckolator
puckxmas
tree
vanity2

im sitting here watching punch drunk love thinking to myself this movie is so awesome. im also thinking i should explain the new photos but why. then i also realized i cant remember the books i just read, so ill start with what i recall.

ignorance
this little gem is pretty much all about sex. i liked it thoroughly. as far as i know its about people in exile having some sort of extramarrital affairs. there are some quotes in there about music that id like to put in here but i cant really get them in the dark while trying to be quiet. i will tell you this, its hard being quiet when you can type 90 wpm (86 net).

blood meridian
this little doozer is pretty much all about sex. i liked it through and through. it starts out with a young boy and ends with a kiddy toucher confessing about touching said same boy. but the book really isnt about the shit i said. its about westward expansion in mid 1800's and killing savage indians. this guy was the dude who wrote all the pretty horses, which i thought might have been some sort of gaylord thing. if its anything like this book i bet its nasty cause this thing is so fuckin violent and just straight up good its almost criminal, itll bite your face off. matter of fact its where i got the quote from one of my more recent posts, man loving games and all.

perdido
this book sucks. something happened from when i was reading this book, to when i finished it, to now, that just left me with a bad taste. all enthusiasm initially, now i wish i hadnt read it. alright maybe not, but maybe so i dont really know.

another roadside attraction
i read this a long time ago. tom robbins will always entertain. i know i had intended to write this post with certain books i had read from x to y in mind. this book is outside that realm but certain books that were inside are gone and forgotten. its about a kidnapped jesus corpse ending up in washington state and mushrooms, edible, poisonous, decorative. robbins characters are always sharp. yuh heard

so i saw life aquatic. good stuff. its getting panned at rotten tomatoes which i kind of predicted. watching it i knew it wouldnt be liked. odd, cause i liked the hell out of it. im also so fucking eager to see this movie, ive been eager, and its just unthirsted. someone watch it and tell me its good. the video store i freq. always has it, staring at me, and it just stopped being in. (for good). toys

pictures:
nightsky
muddywater
rockpit
hazywayne
vanity
metal
naughtyme
techno
ptincoming
origamichess

www.armygame.com. *

My kitty just jumped into the blinds.. but the lights were out (it was less dangerous) and I didn't see her. I assumed that it was a burglar. I grabbed an empty wine bottle from the floor and prepared to smash it in the face of my intruder. There was no intruder. Just a damp, wet, slightly warmer than normal December night that I viewed through the sliding glass doors that are the lame entrance to my pseudo-apartment. The bare (bear?) trees looked wonderful. I forgot to notice them changing to orange and vaguely remember them being green. I haven't been very much alive lately. I haven't noticed much. *

I ordered the supercult video. That shit is so '01. But Mary Anne from Vegas is full of shit... and I used to hang out with her and her goddamn North Shore Mass. accent doesn't sound like Vegay to me (baby). She used to go see lame bands like The Get Up Kids and Juliana Theory. I went too... because I thought she was hot. I was 18 and stupid. Aberdeen City, friends since the age of 6 or so are on the soundtrack. Too many personal connections to not order this pornography. Full report later. *

Four hours isn't sleep at all. --

"Men are born for games...

...Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of a game is not inherent in the game itself but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard. Games of chance require a wager to have meaning at all. Games of sport involve the skill and strength of the opponents and the humiliation of defeat and the pride of victory are in themselves sufficient stake because they inhere in the worth of the principals and define them. But trial of chance or trial of worth all games aspire to the condition of war for here that which is wagered swallows up game, player, all.
Suppose two men at cards with nothing to wager save their lives. Who has not heard such a tale? A turn of the card. The whole universe for such a player has labored clanking to this moment which will tell if he is to die at that man's hand or that man at his. What more certain validation of a man's worth could there be? This enhancement of the game to its ultimate state admits no argument concerning the notion of fate. The selection of one man over another is a preference absolute and irrevocable and it is a dull man indeed who could reckon so profound a decision without agency or significance either one. In such games as have for their stake the annihilation of the defeated the decisions are quite clear. This man holding this particular arrangement of cards in his hand thereby removed from existence. This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justification. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god...."

A few months ago my mom decided to try to treat herself on her birthday to a pair of tickets to see Saturday Night Live. She was lucky enough to actually get a pair of seats on her actual birthday, which is pretty snazzy. Probably not blogworthy except for the fact that the musical guest was Modest Mouse. Hearing your mom come home and say "Wow, that Mouse band was pretty good. Your aunt and I really like them. Have you ever heard them? Were those pretty girls playing the Moraccas in the band?" So after six years of Mouse adoration, my mom gets to see them live before me. I actually considered suicide for a few minutes when this all occured because I'd temporarily lost all faith in the universe to function in a logical manner. I snapped out of it, however, when I rememberd that I've never really had all that much faith anyway. *

On the suggestion of one time blogger Paul and the likes of Penny Arcade and all of the other loonies I know personally or digitally I picked up Katamari Damacy for the Playstation 2. The game is just straight up fucked up. Read the synopsis on Gamerankings I linked above. If you see it, buy it... it's only $20 and hard to find, I'm told. *

I've made the decision, for all of the right reasons, to keep my short-term post-graduate life right here in Wayne, NJ. My plans for grandoise far-away cities and such have been negated by the fact that there's no better place than this part of the country to begin a career... and the fact that living at home for a bit will allow me to choose a job I want based on how much I like it rather than its short term earnings potential. Besides, I've already lived in some of those other places and have found that once the luster wears off, it's still the same ole BS. So let's hit up the diner on our way down to the shore after a night of clubbing in the city because I'm a bona-fide Jersey-ite again: Disco fries. Well done with gravy on the side please. *

There's also music on the horizon again. This much I can confirm. And no, this time I'm not going to fuck it up. --

6:16AM and the count is currently 254 to 252 but just about everyone is reporting a Bush victory. Kerry's people are adament and dispatching lawyers as expected, but it's not like last time and hopefully won't take as long as last time to be decided.

The last thing I heard before going to sleep last night was that 17% of of voting population were between the ages of 18-29, the much hyped youth vote. Guess what that percentage was in 2000? Yup, 17%. No one seemed to think that the increased in youth vote would be offset by an increased in stubborn conservative grandma's that haven't votes since 1984.

So it holds true. My generation knows how to whine and make a lot of noise. But when push comes to shove are ultimately lazy and dissapointing.

Weak.

Greetings. I hope everyone took a few minutes out of their day to go and vote today. My candidate won my state, which was one those pesky battle ground states... so it feels good to have participated for the first time. Now I just have to hope that the rest of the country follow suit. *

I was finally settling in to my job here in New York. Just about ready to start looking for apartments in Manhattan and begin this supposedly wonderful post-graduate life I've been waiting for my whole life. No more than 48 hours before I had solidified my desire to become a Manhattanite did I find out that my job had been outsourced to Paris and that if I wanted to keep it, I'd have to move there. Thing is, I don't know French. And Paris is expensive. And they eat fucking snails. And... well, shit... I didn't want to move to fucking Paris. While I can still remain employed at my current job well into the new year, the fact that it was a ticking time bomb has sorta soured my current mental state. The positive of not having to give a good goddamn about my work performance doesn't offset the prospect of unemployment quite as much as Office Space or Fight Club might have you believe. Dreading the process of Monster.com and the goddamn Sunday New York Times I decided to hit up all of my former employers and see what they had brewing in the pipeline. Fortunately, one of them turned up a very good opoortunity. However, that opportunity just happens to be in Atlanta. Now don't get me wrong... I love Atlanta. I loved living there for six months and I know I'd enjoy living there for a longer period. I guess I'm just kinda torn about the fact that for the first time in my life I don't feel like leaving my friends. Or my family. Or my girlfriend. I've done that a million times before and everytime it's been a crazy adventure. Unfortunately, where I sit right now I'm just not in the mood for an adventure. And I guess that sorta goes against everything I've done for the past five years... moving to Boston... doing internships in Georgia and Ohio... but I had grown very ok with the fact that I would be living in New York for a few years, close to friends and family and almost indefinitely settling down near the place I grew up. Thrusting myself into uncertainty at this time in my life is a mix between exciting and frightening and I'm not 100% how I feel about it yet...

Jesus... It's just an interview and I'm acting like I have the job already. Excuse my poor blogging, I'm rusty. --

You see, the thing is, blogger is blocked from the PC's at my new(ish) job. I essentially wake up at 5:45am, commute my ass to The Port Authority by bus and don't arrive home until just before 8PM. By that time I'm trying so hard to squeeze all of my little "chores" into the course of a few hours just to hit a reasonable bed time. Blogging takes a back seat, is what I'm saying.

However, I am definitely not willing to let this little outlet go. It's meant too much to me over the years and I know for a fact that I can make it important to me again. I don't plan on living at home in Jersey and commuting into the city for too much longer. And once I can cut my commute down by a large amount, I'll be back in front of here kicking like back in the day, only a bit more mature-like. Ya dig?

So, until then.. check back every once in awhile. I do plan to try and hit in.circles sporadically until my full scale return. Who knows, maybe Paul will write something, too. Or Jimmy. *

The Sox are creaming the Yanks as I write. Hell has surely frozen over. --

MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES. REALLY. WRITING HERE HAS TAKEN A BACKSEAT TO JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW AND IT'S GROWN TO BE A BIT OF A JOKE. HOWEVER, AFTER LOTS OF THINKING, I AM MAKING ONE (NOT QUITE LAST DITCH) EFFORT TO SAVE THIS HERE WEBSITE. WITH ANY LUCK, THERE WILL BE ABOUT THREE UPDATES A WEEK... BRIEF AND ENTERTAINING. SOMETHING I'VE NEVER QUITE SEEN ANYWHERE ELSE AND I'M EXCITED ABOUT IT.

THANKS FOR HANGING WITH ME. GIMME A FEW DAYS AND THINGS'LL BE SWELL. I PROMISE. --

CHRISTOPHER

You've got to sneak your blogs in when you can, folks. Even if that means at 6:54am, just 6 minutes before you need to be out the door and off to the bus station where you will inevitably be lulled back into a slumber by the darkness of the bus and the sweet hum that the gears make while navigating through Rt 46 / Rt 3 traffic only to wake up sweating and a little greasy at the Port Authority 10 minutes later than you needed to be. Sneak the blogs in kids, sneak 'em in. *

More later... it's time to roll. --

Fall. Football. Relaxation. Everything, yay.

Work is tough and the hours are killing me slowly. It certainly makes me miss playing ping-pong with jimmy on the daily and wish that I had used my downtime a bit better. But I think I'm learning how to balance out my newfound lack of time with precious care for my newfound free time. Read lots. Listen to good music. Enjoy friends and loved ones more than you've ever enjoyed them before. Savor their time and presence.

Sorry I don't write as much as I'd like to.. and believe me I'd like to, but I haven't quite figured out how to fit it into my schedule yet... but I'm working on it.

Also, I'm working on finishing my songs. Seeing Mitsuko (go. click. now) made me miss playing music. Jimmy said he would help me with my tunes. Maybe we can set aside one night a week to work on these songs. Maybe we could perform them. Or I can perform them if he's too busy. Maybe the band name could be either August De Meyer or The August De Meyers. Maybe it could be acoustic pop with keyboard and no drums. Or electronic drums, if we're so inclined. Maybe I could sing about the things I don't find the time to write about here. Maybe you can come see us and it'll be fun.

Fall. I love fall. --

You've got a new thing going!
And I can't go with that!
And the scars are showing!
From the memories gone bad!
And I say... go on! go on!

3:24am and the Ergs are still inspiring enough for me to accentuate their lyrics with exclamation points. Amen.*

New 250 gigger is installed, up and running. Old 80 gigger's been left on as a slave. WindowsXP is installed as the OS on the 250 gigger. WindowsME was left on the 80 gigger. I can boot to either.

I started installing all this shit at about 5pm tonight and I've only just finally gotten everything more or less back to normal on the PC front. I used to think I was good at this shit... but as the years have gone by I've considerably gotten stupider and stupider with it.

At any rate, iTunes seems to be functioning just splendidly... which means a little bit of anal MP3 organizing and rabid ripping of the CD collection will be commencing for a good two weeks until I get my sweaty little hands on my itty bitty Pod. Yay. --

Tired and hungover...

but just fine thanks to The Ergs! *

Going to pick up a new hard drive today... which is step #1 towards joining the ranks of all you white headphoned iPod sporting hipsters out there. Excellent. --

For as long as I've known Paul I've consistently offered up (usually misguided) musical advice to him. He is almost always kind enough to give a listen to, and weigh in on, whatever I'm recommending. In return, Paul generally points out books that I should be reading and video games that I probably should be playing. The whole system seems to work pretty well. Keeps us cultured, up to date, whatever.

In one rare instance of Paul laying some tunes on me, he offered up The Paper Chase around the release of their phenomenal sophomore album, Hide The Kitchen Knives. Whereas most music I stumble upon these days finds me dis-interested after a few weeks, The Paper Chase has again and again found itself on my playlists. My respect for this band has multiplied tenfold since I first found myself enamored with that shakey but disturbingly determined voice scream "YOU BETTER HIDE THOSE KITCHEN KNIVES!" out of my speakers two years ago.

I don't know why it took me so long to get myself a copy of their latest, God Bless Your Black Heart, but upon spinning it from front to back for the first time it's completely monopolized all of my listening time and playlist space. 90% an expanded Hide The Kitchen Knives concept, 5% Modest Mouse and 5% Connor Oberst, God Bless Your Black Heart is for anyone who likes their dementia sincere and honest or their heartbreak sickening and scary.

I listen to it more than the new Faint. More than the new Ted Leo. More than the new Interpol. Cure. Hives. Blah-blah. Blah-blah. Bands with visions and talent like The Paper Chase are an all-too-rare example of why music plays such a big part in my life.

So thanks, Paul. --

It's with caution that I admit to have been bitten by the Dan Brown bug. It started obviously enough, with The Da Vinci Code, and has moved forth to Angels* & Demons and then to Deception Point. I can only guess that the madness will end with Digital Fortress. Being the type of kid in high school that spent hours on the internet before it was cool for you to check out espn.com while at work, I'd previously stumbled upon countless websites about the Illuminati, Free Mason imagery on US Dollar Bills, etc. If you're a bit geeky, don't mind being caught on the subway with a paperback best seller, and have a few hours to kill (literally, you can plow through these puppies in hours) I highly recomment seeking out this shit. Your Dad's probably already bought it, so just borrow it from him or whatever.

Read it before Ron Howard casts Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon and ruins the whole damn thing. *

They sell shirts that have "I'm Rick James, Bitch" silkscreened along side an image of Mr. James on the Seaside Heights boardwalk. Last weekend, two days after the death of Signore James I saw a person walking along the beach that crossed out the "I'm" and replaced it with "I was" "I was Rick James, Bitch". Charming.

I might just be the only person in the United States that has not yet seen the David Chappelle skit that spawned that initial phrase. *

I'm employable, it turns out. Not only employable, but employable by multiple companies. When it rains it pours... and now I've been offered two wonderful positions with wonderful companies doing things that I know that I will enjoy. It's a wonderful problem to have... and once I make the final decision (it's 99.9% made), I'll let you hear about it... then the unemployed whining will end. Yay. --

* I'll have you know that the exact second that I began typing the word Angels, Ted Leo yelled the word "Angel" in song #2 off of his new album Shake The Sheets which I have not listened to enough yet to comment on.

Touche!

I wish I could play off my last post as a successful test of faith, but I cannot honestly do so. The truth is that I wanted my first blog back to be inspiring enough for me to stick to my word, but I just kinda froze up. Straight up writers block. For a few days I took a mental vacation, keeping me from blogging. Then after that I took a physical vacation to Seaside Heights, New Jersey. I'm happy to say that I have returned with 1/2 lb. of peanut butter fudge, a red fighting fish won from a boardwalk game that strangely resembles beer-poing that Marissa and I have named "rar", a wicked sunburn, and a newfound desire to write. I suppose that you can get any of those aformentioned items just about anywhere in the U.S., but I think those who are in the know understand that there is no better place to do so.

Fudge, fish, and sunburn aside, I state that Seaside Heights, NJ is the perfect catalyst to my rekindled interest in blogging becase the duration of the time I spent there had me asking the very same questions that I've found myself asking a lot since leaving Boston and moving back home. #1 - Who are these people? and #2 - What the fuck am I doing here? While I am still not far removed from the inherent craziness that comes with being a senior in college living in Boston I am sure as hell not ready to take up any kind of suburban residence and begin living the way that so many middle-aged white people do. The desire to hit the town, to get out and see people in different situations has been such a huge part of my life the past five years, and it's tough to be faced with the truth that it's not really possible in my current location. Yes, technically on paper I live in a rather large town that offers a fairly diverse set of people(s). I have great friends whom I enjoy spending time with more than they probably know. But the scale to which I have become accustomed to enjoying my time on this planet has been greatly scaled down.

So there's the backdrop for going forward with in.circles. Knowing what's behind me - knowing what I want in front of me - and this bizarre little time in between called 'right now' in which living as an NYC commuter in North Jersey has me asking myself questions #1 and #2 a lot. *

Due up, more on the Jersey Shore, the statistical chance of getting on a subway train with a raving lunatic, and how much more ass my fighting fish can kick than yours. Stay tuned. --

Chris

Ahem... excuse me.  It appears as if i've lost my voice.  I'm sure that my lack of regular blogging makes that fairly evident.  The infrequency, I can deal with.  However, looking back at the substance behind my scant blogging and being embarassed and sickened, I cannot deal with.

The lack of voice or substance or whatever you want to call it behing my words is due to a million things.  However, lately I've felt an urge to get back into the daily, or almost daily, saddle. So rather than can this whole project that I've worked on more less for five years now, I'm going to give it one more shot.  The blogs will be coming.  And hopefully they will be interesting.

Hope to see ya around more.  Thanks,

Chris.

Technically I suppose you can say I'm employed. Generally, employment consists of regular payment in a paper check or electronically dispersed sum of money. If you're lucky, employment will also consist of health care benefits. My current 'employment' consists of none of those things, short of a few bucks to cover the insanely expensive commute from Jersey to New York everyday. However, I am being paid in "learning". And "experience". I am also getting to "rub elbows" with some influential and important people. I guess the idea is that giving up the above stated generalities of employment will pay off sometime in the future with larger payments in either paper or electronic forms. Despite the exciting work in which I get to do, which I'm not quite ready to reveal up in ye olde blog, it's tough to be working pro bono when there have been multiple offers that allow for pay and benefits in the here and now. *

If you take a look at my blog entry dated October 20, 2003 you will find a pretty accurate and quite pissed-off description of the night I was robbed at knife point. Last week, just over nine months after the incident, I took the witness stand to testify against the four assholes that pulled knives on me and a friend in search of a few bucks. I spent one hour and 45 minutes on the stand. I was cross-examined by four sleezy defense lawyers that had prepared questions intended to confuse my memory of the night. Questions designed to paint a false picture of me wanting to face off with four huge scary looking dudes because I had quite a bit to drink. I think I held my own on the stand... and I'm pretty sure that the few places I slipped up due to the sleezy questioning will be fixed by the bare facts of the case... my 911 call and the police reports... order of events, etc. I don't like to try to knock anyone trying to make a living... and I am sure there are lots of defense lawyers that are truly looking for justice in the world. But I don't know how these four particular people can be OK enough with themselves at day's end to have a decent night's rest. --

Tonight a handful of us will be heading up to the Catskills for a camping weekend and i'm pretty psyched about the whole thing. Of course, when your life consists of balancing time between Final Fantasy Tactics Advance and a pirated copy of Rez for the Dreamcast, anything that involes being outside of these bedroom walls warrants "psychedness". So Boo-ya. Bring on the mosquitos, campfires, and creepy New York state hicks. *

I've put together a handful of mix CD's to listen to on the trip. I've put one together that consists of mostly new music and a few old favorites to round out the collection... here's the tracklisting:

01. Wilco - At Least That's What You Said
02. Interpol - Slow Hands
03. Clinic - Country Mile
04. Mike Park - On That Stage
05. Single Frame Ashtray - The Slip
06. Mirah - Look Up!
07. Secret Machines - Light's On
08. Ramones - Do You Wanna Dance?
09. The Misfits - Bullet
10. Ramones - Needles and Pins
11. The Misfits - Death Comes Ripping
12. Two Lone Swordsmen - Sick When We Kiss
13. Clinic - wdyyb
14. Apollo Sunshine - Blood is Wood
15. Interpol - Not Even Jail
16. Single Frame - Floral Design in a Straight Line
17. The Cure - Before Three
18. Detachment Kit - Music for Strobelights
19. Leonard Cohen - Famous Blue Raincoat

Enjoy your weekend. Happy Summer. --

Go and listen fuckwads. --

I just wrote an entire album's worth of power-pop songs. Think 1997. Two minute, thirty second long songs that pack in at least two verses, two choruses and a bridge or intro in the more inventive tunes. Think Plow United meets Beezewax. *

I'm four songs into the new Cure album and enjoying it a whole heck of a lot more than I thought I would. I guess Ross Robinson isn't all that terrible. I mean, he produced Burn Piana Island Burn by the Blood Brothers, right? *

I'm still unemployed. Although I finally have an attractive offer in front of me from a very respectable, well-known company. The job is marketing and sales related whereas lately I've had an unexplainable urge to dive into the finance industry a whole hell of a lot. A friend of my parent's trades on the commodities market (think oil. think the people who terrorists want to blow up.) and offered to sign me up as his unpaid clerk so that I could run around the trading floor for a few weeks to see if I can find anyone willing to hire me to do whatever the hell it is that they do over there. The whole scene is pretty exciting. But it's also pretty damn risky and can end up being a total, total bust. Whoa is me. --

And so it begins.

* 'At Least That's What You Said', the first song on the new Wilco album pleases me.
* I am still unemployed. But I'm coming closer to real employment by the day. I could be in Brooklyn, Manhattan, or Jersey. It's heating up... the decision will come soon... which I'm sure will either lead to a new, fun blog that I will use to bitch in ad nauseum... or completely kill the damn thing. Either way I'm sure no one's too broken up.
* I enjoy playing Mario Golf more than I care to admit.
* Marissa will be heading my way with a truckload of her goods to come live with me while we sort out our employment and living situations. This pleases me very much.
* Word of advice... if you have the word "Sales" in our resume and want a halfway decent job... do not post your resume on Monster.com. You wil be flooded with calls from idiots who want you to sell shit to other idiots and pay you nothing for it.

Bitchin'. --

Passable verses. Catchy choruses. Blues riffs. Fuckin' A.

Catchy voices. Passable musicians. Blues. Fuck me. --

I don't know why it took me so long to actually command myself a copy of Single Frame Ashtray's 'Wetheads Come Running'. Better late then never. That's advice, folks. *

Being solitary all day long and most of the night makes my head wander down paths that I haven't allowed it to wander down much these past few years because of how goddamn busy I've been. Given the choice, I'd opt for the latter. Working hard enough to not have to try. The Good Life. Etc. *

That said, I'm still jobless. Still sitting in the sun. Still letting my head wander, fueled by bitter literature and hip music. *

This evening I'll be visiting some family in Kinnelon and later heading to Maxwell's in Hoboken to see Army of Me. A band I've never heard of. A band that nobody I'm going with has ever heard of. I'm psyched. --

12:21am. My skin is quite suntanned. That's what happens when you have nothing to do and read Palahniuk and/or Kafka every day on your parents deck from 12:30pm - 2:00pm in the early summer. I should probably start wearing lotion. *

Anyone that didn't download the Mitsuko MP3, you make me sad. Fix that.*

Today I had a musical eureka! of sorts. Funny thing is it came while fucking around with musical instruments that were all borrowed. Mostly Jeff's Martin. Knowing that I was going to be borrowing Jimmy's drum machine also led me there (which is sitting in my mailbox as i type. I forgot to take it out when I came home tonight. One last thing to do before bed). Plus synthesizers and borrowed copies of recording software. Use the tools at hand people. The future is now and tomorrow. So why live for yesterday? The project I plan on unleashing in time will most likely end up being dubbed The Metamorphosis, which looks a little bit funny when I type it. The name might have something to do with my newly rekindled interest in Kafka short stories or the idea of an unemployed white collar hopeful's desire to rock the fuck out in his off time. Regardless of the inspiration, I think it would look nice silk screened across your ass. *

I like the new Detachment Kit album. It sounds pretty much nothing like the last Detachment Kit album... which sounded like a less developed and less together Les Savy Fav. I've heard it dubbed as the coming of the new Modest Mouse. Which we apparently need because Modest Mouse's shittiest album ever is currently topping your US of A's Billboard 100 chart. I suppose if I had to stretch I could find some similarities between the controlled insanity of Of This Blood and The Fruit That Ate Itself EP... but it would be a stretch of Armstrong proportions. Comparing four songs and a few backwards tape looped intros to an exciting sophomore effort from a relatively unknown band that has recently taken residence just a few miles to my east in Brooklyn is just silly time-wasting. Let me not waste any more of your time then, go to the french kiss records site and find out more. Or Soulseek. Or BitTorrent... or whatever the fuck you crazy fuckers are using to get your kicks these days. I used Soulseek. *

G'Nite, it's time to try and beat that nasty fifth course in Mario Golf again. *

ladies and gentlemen, this life is dangerous. --

So, it's been awhile. I'm sorry about that. The truth is that when faced with the option of signing on to your parents AOL account via modem to go on the internet or sit on my ass and do nothing all day, the latter ends up winning almost all of the time. This afternoon, however, I am painfully hungover and the thought of sitting outside in the bright sun makes my head want to explode. *

One-time in.circles poster Jimmy has been playing in a band called Mitsuko for the past few months. Band is italicized because the whole shi-bang pretty much seems to be a two person operation with a few outside contributors here and there. At any rate, I highly recommend taking a few minutes to check out this MP3. The song is entitled "Wallflower" and is bound to go bouncing around your head for days and days once you hear it. Think the Postal Service with Stephen Malkmus vocals and J. Mascis guitar noodling. A+. They don't have a website or anything just yet, but I'm sure if you left some feedback attached to this post Jimmy would be glad to address all of your questions. *

I've been interviewing for jobs. Looking for jobs. Posting resumes. Writing cover letters. It sucks and is no fun and I'm sure you don't want to hear about it. *

One of the coolest things about coming home has been that I have my entire record collection at my finger tips again. I only had a small portion of my entire collection with me in Boston. Being able to combine records old and new onto a cd shelf (or ten) has yielded come incredibly fun playlists. I mean... seeing J. Mascis and The Fog alphabetically next to Marilyn Manson, Kind Of Like Spitting next to KMFDM, and Ugly Cassanova next to Type-O Negative is incredibly amusing. *

I want to buy a car. Thing is, even if you have enough money for a very generous down payment, people don't sell you cars unless you have a job. So for now it looks like I'm still going to have to mooch. Sorry friends, I'll split gas with ya and pay you back once I get wheels. *

Marissa's gone home for a little while. I'll talk to you more about that next week... for now, I'm heading down the shore. --

The last time I really checked in I was sick as a dog due to excessive drinking and severe lack of sleep. Now, however, I am incredibly well rested and quite healthy. Instead of drinking until 4AM and being woken up far too early by the #1 bus rolling up and down Mass Ave I lay in bed unable to sleep due to the intense silence that comes with living smack in the middle of the burbs. I'm a college graduate, but I'm jobless. I don't have a car.

And it's all pretty much perfect. While it's sometimes frustrating being stuck in the house... I'll take reading a book outside in the sun over having to run out to work 8 hours a day fo-sheezy.

This is the longest vacation I've had since the summer of 2000. And I'm enjoying by doing nothing at all. Unless you count playing ping-pong with Marissa until 2AM doing stuff. Either way, like I said before... it's pretty much perfect. --

I'm alive. Haven't left the house much and am getting a little pastey down here in my parents basement. But I am indeed as alive as one can be without a high speed internet connection. I've been doing a lot of packing and unpacking.

We'll talk more later, for now it's off to a rock-n-roll show. --

heres my response to that question. if you're someone learned in this stuff you will see right away i had no idea what i was talking about. i got a b+ on the exam. upper respiratory infection drifting to the stomach, nuff said...

anselm of canterbury is as immortal in today's world as any god to grace the pages of history and literature. his piety earned him a permanent place in the minds of humans in the wake of colonialism and western conquest. the reason for this perpetual romantacized image of pure-white virtue is not rooted in exaggeration. during a time when greed held tightly to the masses and even infected the impenetrable piety of the church, anselm maintained his focus. as a theologian noone could better understand the human being and it's relation to divine mandate as did anselm. when education was not mature enough to recognize self confidence as the end to a means anselm wove this important facet of human existence into ideas fashionable to all alive during his time.
the apocalyptic myth which anselm rejected was regarding christ and satan in a struggle for man's salvation. to examine the ideas rooted in such an ideology one looks no further than humans themselves. the struggle of life is evidenced in the appearance of flesh and bone. what is life but a struggle for a cell to perceive and thus reproduce to manifest a physical appearance reflective of eagerness to understand. satans position laid foundation in the purely physical. eternal life is a symptom of satan's evil grip. one under this influence seeks to hold close all that defines them as a being.
christ comes in where selflessness is present. christ recognises the necessity of the being to cling to physical indulgences, but one absorbed in christ does not make the physical a habit. one rooted in christ uses their physical form as a vehicle to save themselves through self confidence and afterwards to promote this into the minds of others. man's salvation lies in an understanding and awareness; the fact that one cannot escape sin but may deflect sin in a manner which may be productive. thus two types of sin were cast.
criminal sin is in conduct of direct malice. one seeks to reinforce their physical existence through unjust means. sin, however, is pervasive; it washes over every human in the act of perceiving. greed can be vision, touch, and other sensory indulgences, but they are unavoidable because this sin brought the being into existence. the vibration of an idle cell reflected its rejection of eternal boredom in exchange for a predictable jaunt through a world of temporary sensory experience. the end is known, but soon as the being (cell) gets unsettled and seeks the physical it is cast into sin because all it can harbor in this plane of existence is futile as a result of impending death.
anselm understood these fundamentally HUMAN impulses and causes. what he presented to the masses was far different than what he felt, deep down, at the seat of his soul. in order for a harmonious experience in the physical realm this distinction had to be understood by those unable to grasp it.

For the record, Mr. Paul, not only are you welcomed here... I honestly feel that content from Jimbo and yourself is probably the only thing that will save me from shutting this thing down in the long-run. So ante up, biatches. Step to the plate if you'd like.

So here I am at work, on my very last day of a job that I have quit and returned to three previous times. I'm sick enough to feel like I have something the size of a tennis ball stuck in my throat and fear that drinking anything other than water will feel like razor blades in my neck after being swallowed. I've spent five of the past six nights living the dream, so to speak, that is... acting like a college student one last time: drinking approximately 8 hours each day and sleeping approximately 4 hours a night. It's been a freakin blast, but it's also caught up with me. On my last days of work at previous jobs I've spent the day going through all of the work I've done and building a portfolio of my work, etc... today I'm just going to stare at my monitor and watch the clock move slowly towards 5 o'clock, the time in which I will leave one hour early.

I graduate college in four days and move out of Boston in eleven. Ga-damn. --

im at school and i just did a midterm during the second to last week of school. im pretty sure i did not do well but i enjoyed responding to the essay question. there were 3 essays you pick one. since i had no clue about any of them ill show you the one that i had the least, no-clue about.

iv. although anselm of canterbury was a monk who rigorously followed the rule of st. benedict, nevertheless he argued as a theologian that we must take responsibility for our own eternal salvation.
(1)describe the apocalyptic myth (which anselm rejected) of the cosmic struggle of christ and satan for man's salvation;

(2)the ecclesiastical courts of the time, following abelard's theology, distinguished between criminal sin and sin: contrast the two

(3)why is this distinction important?

you know, writing this im curious if chris even welcomes me here anymore. between doing presentations on desmond tutu and biting my ass for nicker nockers its like shooing my zooble dew. ya see.

as much as it seems i dont, i really do.

have a passion for the material that was on the test. thing is everything i read(yesterday), of course, was not on the test. i got as far as the norman conquests. taking this class and arabic history at the same time has really helped me see that history is stupid and amusing at the same time. could you see juicy coutre pants on my plants. well, cnut was cool, i just dont really recall the cool stuff he did. i know i underlined fulk, of the angevins, too... you know the story, he did cool things. the other day i was reading a book and a name came up, margaret clitheroe, 10 pts if you can tell me who the fuck she is and how much weight they pressed her under. 1586, irrelevant to the reading im doing for school, anthony burgess wanting seed shit.

i swear tho, if there is any chick hotter than eleanor of aquitaine i will kill puppies in a puppy store and become a druid preist. we need people to read about her so they can be just as hot as she was. after i do my paper on her ill give you the degrees... see you in a year or so

Update: It has been released and is quite good.

My Internet ADD is out of fucking control. Three sentences into reading the Les Savy Fav "Inches" review on Pitchfork I open up a new browser window to check my main Hotmail e-mail inbox. Once I see that I have no new mail there I check my secondary Hotmail inbox and then flip over to Eudora to check my work email. As that happens I get an MSN Messenger IM from my boss asking me what I have on my plate today.. which I promptly ignore so that I can use AOL Instant Messenger to ask my friend if the LSF disk is out yet. He doesn't respond, even though he's not idle, so I open up my third browser window to check out frenchkissrecords.com for an official release date. As the Frenchkiss site is loading I realize that I never finished the review, so it's back to Pithfork. Two sentences into the second paragraph I don't feel like reading the review anymore because there's already no doubt in my mind that the comp. is going to rock the fuck out, so I close that window and click back to Frenchkiss. The splash page looks awkward on my high res screen and 5 seconds into trying to locate the link to get past it I get an IM from my girlfriend telling me that she's going to sign off for a bit. I send my goodbyes to her and on my way back to Frenchkiss I receive an email via Eudora concerning the Pub Crawl in which I will be participating in tonight. I write a quick response and realize what the goddamned-fuck have I accomplished in the last twenty minutes? Absolutely nothing! I should be fired! I should just leave and go to Newbury Comics and pickup the Les Savy Fav disc.. but shit, I STILL DON'T EVEN KNOW IF IT'S FUCKING OUT YET!!!! *

So this is how I find myself now, on the waydown off a three hour caffeine high prompted by this morning's 24 Oz. iced coffee with extra cream and sugar. And the people in the cube next to me are watching porn. The boss is at a trade show this week and my entire office is out of control. PORN, for Christ's sake... can't you get arrested for that kind of shit? *

I will be participating in a Pub Crawl tonight, Northeastern / Boylston area bars. It should be pretty boss. - I will be going to Mohegan Sun to gamble and drink my ass off next week. - I will be going on a booze cruise next week. - I will be enjoying my "last day of work" and entering the large population of unemployed folks out there next week. - I will be graduating in one week and two days. - I will probably develop liver cancer *

It looks like both my beloved Devils and Yankees are suffering from hypocrisy issues and lack of heart as of late. It's difficult to watch one time heroes fizzle out and become shells of their former selves, but it seems like what I'm looking at here. *

I didn't get through the whole thing... but I'm guessing that this article has a quote from a music industry momo attributing increases in record sales to the crackdown on file sharing, while anyone who's attended approximately one business or economics class knows it has everything to do with economic turn-around. *

Within the next two weeks I will have decided whether or not to quit my current job, buy a car, or move out of boston. Just after that I'll have graduated - and if all goes as planned, I could be moving to one of a few cities including Atlanta (keepin my fingers crossed there), Philly, or Chicago. I could very well be living with Marissa in one of those places. It's all very exciting and scary and I don't even want to write too much about it in fear of jinxing it or making myself look like an idiot later.

If none of the following works out I've decided that my plan B is to drive my dads old shitty car and spend my weeks after graduation bouncing back and forth between my parents house and my aunts house on the jersey shore.. or just bumming around Boston jobless until I find something. Even my plan B is fucked up... shit's crazy, dogg. *

So, how do we all feel about the new Modest Mouse? --

This morning, while racing down the four flights of stairs I must combat every morning to get to work I turned my ankle in an insanely awkward way and fell down like a feeble old man. My usual 15 minute walk from Downtown Crossing to the office took me about 45 minutes, with a quick stop at CVS for some Maximum Stength Advil. I've spent all day here with my keyboard on my lap and my bare foot covered with an ice pack elevated on the chair next to me. Everyone feels too bad to give me more work to do, which I'm enjoying.

However, I don't currently have health insurance... which I'm not enjoying. I'm just going to keep my fingers crossed that this sucker starts to heal asap so that I can avoid that whole X-Ray / put me in even more debt thing. *

Yesterday I downloaded Type O Negative's Life Is Killing Me, KMFDM's Xtort, and Pig's Sinsation. I also played the brutally bloody Manhunt for Playstation 2. Throw that on top of last night's squirm inducing Sopranos episode and you have a slightly shell shocked Christopher. Is it a coincidence that I fell down the stairs this morning? Was it God trying to turn me around from descending down the path of transforming into a 14 year old goth girl? Don't worry, big man... I outgrew wanting to dye my hair black about 11 years ago. So, as much as I appreciate your concerns... no more bone injuries please / thanks. *

"Did you see what God did to us man?"
"That wasn't God, it was you...you're a fucking narcotics agent, I knew it!"

I am exactly .013 GPA points away from graduating with honors this May 1st. Cum Laude or whatever they call that shit. It puts me in an interesting position because the train that's keeping this educational journey of mine moving along has run out coal, gas, or any other kind of earth material that somehow enables big metal machines to move. In the fall the conductor came outside and pushed a little bit... but now he's tired, unshowered, and hung over most of the time. - I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope that the BS still sticks to the wall a little while longer. *

I was very happy to see Mr. Jimmy finally accept my invitation to write for this weblog after about a years worth of begging and pleading. He's not just a pretty face anymore, ladies and gentelmen... he's a living breathing human being and fucking-A he knows how to use BOLDFACE! *

Apparently I'm going to be visiting Europe for about a week after graduation. My parents have offered this to me as a present in lieu of something like a down payment for a car. But my question for them is... how the fuck am I supposed to get to the airport?

Har, har, har. *

Someday soon I will not have to force these entries into the five free minutes I get once every three days. I will no longer be balancing three jobs and school but will be working one job, with normal hours that allow for normal social interaction with other individuals and even time for relaxing. When that occurs, folks, I promise you a more well thought out in.circles that relies a whole lot less on the words 'fuck' and 'shit' and a whole lot more being worth reading.

Until then... fuck. --

"Did you guys hit the deer?"

We're trailing a cop home from a local hippie-type watering dookie. Gunna get pulled over. Gunna fall asleep. Tasty beer, strange people, good juke, early last call. I'm thinking, 'ah, a turn-a-bout of the controls, he can't do anything to us from up there.'
"You guys see the new cop cars?"
A minute later I'm sneaking through some bushes to watch a female officer laugh with her co-workers, and proceed to shoot a deer in the head. I've never actually heard a shotgun blast before. Much more quiet than in the movies. Even quieter than the first one. The other one got away. Alive. Dead. Probably the best thing to do, hell I wasn't gunna nurse the thing back to health. Care enough? Lazy. I did make sure my kitty was around to greet me when I got home. It's way too late, and I'm way too tired to make any sense of it. Doesn't matter either way. this beer. that beer. together. apart. dead. alive. I started reading 'The Stranger' by Albert Camus and I'm listening to 'Charles Manson - Look At Your Game Girl'. I'm gunna sleep a little closer to her tonight, and make sure I pay more attention when she gets out.

Last night I dreamt that I was record shopping at The Sound Exchange, a record store I grew up frequenting. There were new owners, not the guys that at my tender young age of 13 would correctly insist that I'd be better off picking up records by Pop Will Eat Itself, Pigface, and Fugazi instead of whatever other crap I was probably buying at the time. I went to the register to pick up my copy of the Iron & Wine album and had an altercation with the gentleman ringing me up about the amount I gave him, the cost of the album, and the disparity between them and the amount of change he gave me.. I ended up leaving the store without the album, claiming that I would never listen to music ever again.

Sorry, I just wanted to see if that dream was just as fucking stupid written down as it was in my head. Turns out it was. *

Yesterday I drank my balls off. I'm talking non-stop from like 10:30AM until about 7 at night. I suppose that's par for the course in South Boston on the day of their big St Patty's parade... however, the fact that I was on the clock made it quite interesting. Four of us were DJing a bar on the parade route. The initial gig-time was 12-2, but the owner offered us $250 cash, on top of our (shitty) hourly wage if we stayed until 5. As much as I get annoyed with my part-time job for eating away at my precious and few college weekends... playing rock music for five hours, getting shitey with a bunch of Irish cops for free, and making about $200 ain't a half-bad way to spend a Sunday. *

Why is Jimmy's picture over there on the left side of the weblog, a few folks have wondered, when he's never actually contributed? The answer, my friends... is to promote traffic to the site. We needed a pretty face to lure in the little lovelies, and I couldn't think of a better way to do it. --

So how do we all feel about Braid getting back together for a reunion tour? Personally, I'm excited to be able to see one of the many bands that I've always wanted to see live but never thought I'd get the chance to (believe it or not my band was asked to play a show with Braid in 1998 at the Melody Bar in New Brunswisk, NJ and we turned down the offer because we thought that the haul to South Jersey was too far for a school night!?). Although I must admit that the whole thing is a bit curious in an out of left field kind of way. Regardless of the intentions, hearing songs off of Frame and Canvas live will probably bring me right back to being 17... which I remember being quite fun. If I had my way, this tour would turn into more than just a one time thing, spawning a glorious follow-up to Frame and Canvas that far surpasses anything that Hey Mercedes or any of Chris Broach's side projects have been able to attain. *

Don't forget, new Iron & Wine album out Tuesday. --

If there is one thing I've learned from doing this weblog - and I'm sure it's fairly obvious that I haven't learned much more than that many things as long as i've been doing this - it's that if you talk too soon or too much you'll most likely end up kicking yourself for it later. So excuse me if I've been quiet lately... I've been pleasantily, ableit busily, living my little life.

I know that not talking about things going on in your life goes against everything that a personal weblog stands for, and I'm fully prepared to respond to that statement by saying: sorry, i'll figure out how to deal with that later. *

One thing I can always talk about, though, is music. Musica, if you will. These past few days I've been listening to Holopaw, Plow United, and new tracks from Reubens Accomplice and The Descendents. I usually tend to stick to one genre at a time... so I honestly can't explain the delving into electronically-tinged southern folk, hard pop-punk, wimpy emo, and melodic pop-punk all at the same time. But it's been the happy little soundtrack to the life that I'm restraining from talking about. *

I will tell you that I blew out my much beloved Marshall Valvestate guitar amp on Friday night, while drunkenly performing an improvised Happy Birthday death metal song for my roommate. --

Hello there. I'm home safe and sound. Back to the east coast where March snow pounds down with a bitter and moist vengeance, you're likely to receive a "what the fuck?" if you bump into someone accidentally on the subway, and where cab drivers seem to be doing their best to ride over pot holes filled with water for the purpose of splashing you for kicks. Ahh yes... home sweet home. I spent a week in a place where the weather drifts from warm and sunny on low ground to pleasant powdery snow in the mountains, people almost always apologize when bumping into you... even in bars, and the closest thing to a pot hole is the place where some hippie college student stashed his gram of cheeba.

My vacation to Colorado was excellent. I slept an average of about 4 hours a night, skied four of the most amazing ski mountains I've ever seen (Arapaho, Breckenridge, Copper, and Vail), consumed more alcohol than I ever believed possible, and ate lots and lots of Mexican food. Most vacations I've taken in my life have been of a restful nature... but last weeks balls to the wall spring break trip has left me ridiculously fucked up. My body is sore in places that I didn't even know existed and there is a lump in my throat the size of Texas. Today's extreme discomfort is in no way directly proportional to the amount of incredible fun I had on my final spring break, though. To be honest, I didn't know I had that much college-kid left in me. Graduation is in 7 weeks... glad I'm going out with a bang. *

Much to write about, but not much time to do it. Gimme a few days to get back into the swing o' things. --

I'll be in Colorado until 3/7

I'll try to post. If not, eat it bitches! --

The weather's here - wish you were, beautiful.

It's unbelievable how 15 degrees one way or the other can impact my mood. After a bitterly cold winter in more ways than one a 41 degree day can do wonders for your optimism. It can turn your ten minute walk through downtown each morning from a distraught walk through the Valley of the Twisted to a hopeful stroll through the City of Possibilities. Motherfucking Nature, brah. *

So I've written some songs. Some I've had kicking around for a long time in one form or another... but lately I've really buckled down on them and fleshed them out so that they are in near complete form. Complete enough to try them out for the few individuals I trust for feedback on that sort of thing, anyway. If all goes as planned in my life I will figure out what I'm doing with myself after graduation soon enough, which will hopefully allow me the opportunity to quit at least one of my three part-time jobs and concentrate on putting these tunes to tape. This excites me to no end. I know I've said things like this for years on this here blog. Even more so to Jimmy who always responds to the effect of "OK, now show me", which is pretty much where the whole thing ends. But not this time. Oh no. One way or the other, this is going to happen. Get ready to shake your asses. --

Ben Foster has some interesting things to say about the A-Rod deal that I think are worth reading over at Weasel Manor. He breaks the whole thing down better than I ever could and I share his opinions, for the most part. Especially the part where he talks about the stingy manager effect. Theo Epstein and Co. let quite possibly the greatest player in the game slip through their fingers because of $12 million dollars. Sure, he's old and he's crazy, but Stenbrenner wants to win. You can't blame a guy for putting his fucking coffers on the line if he thinks he's got a chance at taking the pot after losing three hands in a row, can you?

My feelings on the implications of the whole thing are pretty much pulling in two different directions... as a Yankee fan living in Boston, it's quite possibly one of the most hilariously enjoyable feelings in the world. It's like the city of Boston had finally finished saving up for that really big penile implant... but just before the end of the surgery, Ron Jeremy came in with his super-wang and used it to knock them off of the fucking operating table. Conversely, there's a certain amount of guilt that comes with being a Yankee fan. A white man's burden-esque sort of feeling. But just like Red Sox fans refuse to be swayed by their teams mind-boggling ability to lose, Yankee fans know how to take the "bought Championship" insults with stride. Should we feel guilty for being born in a city of winners? Fuck no. And when I say winners... don't assume I'm jumping the gun here. I'm talking about winning in a sense of beating the Red Sox to the punch in terms of A-Rod. October is a long, long time from now. *

I had a really great weekend. I didn't work a lot, which my bank account won't like too much come payday. But I just had a really enjoyable, stress-free, drink until you pass out kind of swell time. I was starting to think I'd forgotten how to do that. *

* Imri, Mr. "I can provide you with all of your desired digitally delivered Modest Mouse related thingies" himself was kind of enough to shoot me MP3's of a pre-released / taped off of the radio version of Good News for People who Like Bad News. I don't really know what to say. Something certainly seems missing, though. Could be the beginning of the end. Or maybe this is already the end. I really don't know. More on that with repeat spins. --

The following are my results from the You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize thingamabobber:


You're Generally Indie. There's nothing wrong with
this. You like music all over the map and
aren't adversed to listening to some Top 40
here and there. You just know to comment that
The Neptunes are the best producers around
right now. You don't feel the need to debate
constantly with other music geeks, because you
know that Pavement were the best band of the
90s.


You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
brought to you by Quizilla *

Can you tell that I'm fucking bored? --

Perhaps 'fornicated' wasn't the exact word I was looking for. And I didn't mean the amount of states that we had fornicated together in... in fact, the two people involved in the conversation I was referring to have never... umm... fornicated together at all. ... OK ... enough of that. *

Yesterday I was lucky enough to be provided this movie link to Modest Mouse playing Bury Me With It on the Carson Daily show. I'd love to hear what you think about it. I like it. I think. *

Work has hit an all-time boring high and satisfying low, the amount of effort I've been putting into my schoolwork is about as much effort as Paul puts into updating (oh snap), and I'd say that my social life was OK except I've been too drunk to remember most of it lately. Smile! You're in your early 20's! *

This just in... more movie footage of new Modest Mouse stuff. Thanks Erms. --

The following is an image representing the 30 states I have visited during my short time on this planet:



create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

This is not to be confused with the conversation I had the other day with a friend, about how many different states we each had... umm... fornicated in. I'll leave that number up to speculation. --

Yeah. About that epic post. Fuggit. Chances are you didn't want to hear it anyway. My favorite part of it, however, I'll provide you with. It's an excerpt from "The Vice Guide to Finding Yourself", a frickin' hilarious list of shit that people in their early 20's need to have experienced to figure out just why the fuck they are on this planet. My personal favorite entry:

"This one is only for guys. In order to become a man you have to: 1) break someone's heart; 2) have your heart broken; 3) get the shit beaten out of you; and 4) beat the shit out of someone. That means: 1) she has to be so fucked up she almost kills herself. Like, doesn't eat for three days and falls down the stairs drunk; 2) you are so fucked up you have to punch yourself in the head to stop thinking about her; 3) you end up in the hospital with a severely broken nose and some sort of permanent facial scar; and 4) he's not really moving at the end. You're just kind of kicking a blob."

There was some other shit. My commentary. A Bukowski poem. Whining. Like I said, you're all better off for not having read it and I'm probably better off for not having finished it. *

Am I terrible for enjoying the song So Alive by Ryan Adams? Blatent bad Morissey ripoff and all? *

Picked up the Microhones Live In Japan on Saturday in the midst of my worst hangover since new years. I remember having read about it awhile ago, but didn't remember reading that it consisted of all new material. Not a single previously released song on the whole damn thing. The short review: first four songs - just Phil and a guitar, mostly. Along the same lines as the alternate recording of The Moon on Song Islands. If you dig that shit... makes the album worth whatever K's charging for it. The middle: just weirdness. He covers Silent Night and These are a Few of My Favorite Things. I think it's acapella, too. The end: bluesy. Yes, fucking bluesy... but in a Phil Elvrum kind of way. It's live and sloppy, but in a different way than the intentional sloppiness of The Glow Part 2. Shows promise though... put these songs through some Phil-like production and dub it Mt. Eerie and I think we might have a winner on our hands. Goddamn... anyone that doesn't know anything about the Microphones must think that I am writing complete fucking jibberish. Moreso than usual. *

About that hangover. Friday night I fell down a flight of stairs at a downtown bar and threw up out the window of some unkown individual's car that we apparently got into to get back to the South End. God bless Tequila and Bud Light. --

I think that work is starting to get in the way of my drinking habits. Three of my last four hangovers have been interrupted by web design work requests, meetings, and secretly looking for jobs while my boss' back is turned. What right does work have to get in the way of letting my ailing liver lay in bed all day? None, as far as I'm concerned. But there's nothing that can be done about that, I suppose... money being a necessary evil and all. *

Today whilist at work I've listened to Against Me!'s 'As the Eternal Cowboy', M83's 'Dead Cities, Red Seas, and Lost Ghosts', and Nine Inch Nails' 'And All That Could Have Been'. I'll the incongruity speak for itself. *

I have a bit of an epic post planned to go up within the next two days or so. And by epic, I mean strictly in terms length... cuz the motherfucker's gonna be long. Fortunately, the length stems from words other than my own... two particularly different but fitting texts that I feel very much prove the pointless point that I plan on making. In short, when you see the long-ass bitch go up... don't not read it based on the length of it, because most of it's written by people much smarter than me. Thanks. --

Dear New England Sports Fans (of the Northeastern University persuasion),

FUCK YOU.

Sincerely,

Chris *

Quite an eventful weekend. Friday afternoon I took a run up to Sunday River in Maine to do an event for the radio station I work for. All things considered it's a pretty good gig. Cars are provided, lodging is comfortable and free, lift tickets are free, and food is paid for. All we have to do is DJ for and entertain the patrons of the Ski Lodge during apres-ski. Two hours of actual work that I will get paid for about 28 hours for, plus all of the aforementioned benefits. Skiing and working on three hours of sleep was rough, but in the end certainly worth it.

I hadn't skied in going on three years now and was a bit worried that my skills would be severely lacking. However, as most people have told me lately, it's just like riding a bike. Two runs in I was feeling confident enough to hit the double blacks and veer off course for a little bit more variety. I'm heading to Colorado in three weeks and couldn't be more excited to do some west coast skiing again. The first time I went out there, with four buddies when I was 16, was one of the most memorable weeks of my life. This time out there's five of us and alcohol... so I'm thinking that my former trip might have some contention for favorable placement in the happy memory bank. It's also probably worth mentioning that one of the four that I went out with at 16 will be accompanying me again this time out. Thinking about that warms my heart. *

I see no reason why everyone on this planet of ours isn't listening to The Lawrence Arms' 'The Greatest Story Ever Told' as part of their daily routine. If I was forced to choose between the few things that I very much rely on to get me through the day... Coffee... Coke ... Water... or The Greatest Story Ever Told I'd have to go The Lawrence Arms route. And I don't care if you think the vocals sound too much like Blake Shcwartzenwhateverthefuck, I've never enjoyed listening to any Jawbreaker as much as The Lawrence Arms. Shit's chilling sometimes. *

I've got a few friends that are stomaching their way through an episode of The Carson Daily Show tonight to see Isaac Brock and his band of misfits known as Modest Mouse play their new single 'Float On'. Good luck and Godspeed, gentlemen. The episode will be airing sometime next week. --

I've never figured out whether it's best to respond to blog feedback via the feedback window or a shiny new blog entry. Thus far i've responded strictly through the feedback button, but everytime I do so I've considered the new blog entry thing, which is what I'm doing now. Does anyone even care? Anyway, in response to Luna's feedback... the "not a single friend" comment was reflective of my situation a year ago.. having lived in Cleveland for only two weeks and legitimately not having a single friend, in the sense of a person you could call up and say "hey dude, wanna go the record store, drink a bottle of whisky, and then piss the rest of the day away running around the city?" to. I worked with people. And I lived with people. But neither were friends in any sense of the word, unfortunately.

In context of Boston, however, where I've resided for five years... the path which led me to my lonely state the other night was quite different. I returned from friendless / loveless Cleveland in June and found myself surrounded by a ton of friends and feeling very loved. I might argue that last summer was one of the most fun times of my life. I had enough cash saved up to put off working for a few months, spent time with my friends taking trips and going out, and spent the rest of my time doing the same and more with Marissa. Every day and every night had meaning to me. I embraced every minute to make up for all of the lonely days that I spent in Cleveland. Fast forward to winter. While I still enjoy my friends immensly, I've gotten used to having them around again. I certainly don't take them for granted, but it's become commonplace. Marissa's out of the picture and I've found myself with a much larger amount of free time than I had grown accustomed to. I spent those summer and fall months on the high side of being optimistic and I am now having a really hard time getting used to what I suppose is normalcy. Maybe the lesson is that the optimists will eventually end up hurt. But I still have a hard time believing that living pessimistically and being pleasantly surprised from time to time is the way to go. I can't help but wonder if I'd reached the mountain top and am now forced to head back down, despite desperately wanting to enjoy the view for awhile. Forever, if possible.

I guess nothing is ever certain.. except my incessant rambling. --

Every once in awhile, usually in what I feel like are the tumultuous times in my life.. I go back and look at my old weblogs and journals to remind myself of exactly what was going on in my life in years previous. Usually it's just a straight trip down memory lane and nothing more. But this time it seems to be something more:

1/29/01: " I am pretty sure I am at some sort of turning point in my life or something... one of those times that leaves you forever changed. Yipee. Bring on the epiphany, I'm tired of waiting. Unfortunately (for me) these changes are usually sparked by things happening that I am not too fond of. Be prepared for a little run of un-happy posts."

1/21/02: "After two full weeks here in Atlanta i'm starting to feel a bit lonely. Besides my new roomate i do not have a single friend down here, and although i was craving the solitude prior to me moving down here, i'm starting to wish that from time to time there was at least the option to hangout with people. The grass is always greener, i suppose."

1/28/03: "I don't really know for sure why all of my bitterness comes pouring out when I sit down at this damn keyboard lately. But I do know that it probably doesn't make for interesting reading."
---

Granted, I've been known to embarassingly spill my guts about stupid things on in.circles in my weaker moments. Glancing at the rest of the year's entrys, though, show that my weaker moments usually come in fairly random order. What the fuck is it about the end of January that makes life suck so horribly?

Tonight, while drinking coffee and eating stale lemon-glazed cake at Espresso Royale I realized that here in the city that I've come to call home that I am no more or less alone then I was last year in a new city... without a single friend... sitting at a coffee house and reading by myself.

I also realized that chapter 13 of "For Whom the Bell Tolls" is quite possibly the most amazing piece of romantic literature that I've ever had the pleasure of reading:

"If this was how it was then this was how it was. But there was no law that made him say he liked it. I did not know that I could ever feel what I have felt, he thought." --

I think I want to move to Atlanta. I have a possible lead on a job there and just the thought of it working out fills my heart with happiness. I spent six months living there two years ago and remember it being possibly the best time of my life. I was happy, even though I had very little to be happy with. I had no friends. I didn't know where to go or what to do with my time. So I idled it away. I took drives. I sat on my porch and played guitar or read a book. Every little stupid thing I did with my spare time was an adventure. And it was mostly by myself... and still had meaning. I fell asleep content with myself and my actions every night. Since I've returned from Cleveland about 7 months ago I've spent nearly all of my time trying to create meaning out of something that was completely reliant on someone else. I can't for the life of me figure out how just a year and a half can allow for that kind of 180 degree turn.

I know that changing the scenery doesn't change who you are. No matter what physical location you are in, the person you are remains the same. But I think the bitter coldness of this place has begun to wear me down. The bitter things I've witnessed from people that supposedly cared about me has taken this once thick skin and sanded it down to just tendons and exposed muscle. While I know that no physical location is devoid of cruelty... whether it be Boston, suburban Jersey, Cleveland, Atlanta, or any other place I might find myself on this little journey of mine... I can't help but feeling that something is terribly amiss in this part of the world i'm currently in and that resting my head in an apartment on a side street in between Huntingon and Columbus Ave's in Boston is just not a right fit for me anymore. --

After tooling around with it for a little bit, and some last minute additions... here is a list of my favorite songs of the year that proceeded 2004 (in the order I first heard them throughout the year):

crooked fingers - you can never leave
the notwist - this room (the us release was in 2003, so I guess this one's in on a technicality)
microphones - solar system
exploding hearts - sleeping aides and razor blades
cursive - a gentleman caller
the rapture - olio
earlimart - we drink on the job
death cab for cutie - the sound of settling
the shins - kissing the lipless
decembrists - the bachelor and the bride
constantines - young lions
cex - the strong suit
m83 - be wild
the unicorns - ghost mountain
sufjan stevens - for the widows in paradise; for the fatherless in ypsilanti
broken social scene - kc accidental
dizzee rascal - i luv u*

I'm trying to put these tracks together on a CD comp to hand out to friends, etc... but deciding how to setup the track listing is insanely difficult. Suggestions?*

I want to play music again. In front of people. *

Food.

For the most part, that is what the best parts of my fairly relaxing weekend consisted of. The usually disappointing Vinny Testa's and never-disappointing late night Tiger Lily on Friday. Eggs benedict, chocolate french toast with almonds, and two hour cups of coffee with Marissa on Saturday and Sunday mornings, respectively at The Clairmont Cafe' and Brassiere Jo. Most of my other meals consisted of leftovers from the previously mentioned, aside from my Sunday night fast food indulgence of the Taco Bell variety.

Now that I think about it. The best parts of my weekend had nothing to do with the food at all.

It was a good weekend, all said. I feel rested. And relaxed. And happy. And poised to take on what's thrown at me... good, bad, or indifferent. *

I've been so distracted and so frustrated with my channels of hearing new music lately that I resorted to taking shortcuts. My method? Plugging through Pitchfork's top 50 list and exploring the things I've never had a chance to hear otherwise. Sufjan Stevens? Broken Social Scene? M83? Yes, yes, and hellz yes. While I idled away my time in between pricey meals perfecting the art of Mario Kart Double Dash blue motherfucking sparks I was incessantly listening to these three records and kicking myself for not having heard them sooner. Is it lame that I had to refer to the likes of Pitchfork to satisfy my need for the latest and greatest new music? Maybe, but at this point I just don't care.*

Apparently my last semester of classes have started and very obviously I don't care. It's the second week already and I haven't even bought a notebook yet, nevermind the actual textbooks for the classes. The fact that I'm in my fifth year of college is absurd. The fact that it was my choice to choose a five year program is even more absurd. My mind is on everything in the world but school right now. And I'm ok with that. I've spent way too many years caring too much about my scholastic performance. I need a break. --

Just when things were relatively easy here at work, I had to go and make them more difficult. I've remained fairly busy and never too insanely stressed just filling out website addition / subtraction requests for the past 5 months or so. "Chris, can you take down page X?" "Chris, that image on page Y is a bit fuzzy, can you regenerate it and add the attached copy?" Simple. Easy. No problems or worries. Fulfilling these requests in a pseudo-timely manner insured that people were never too upset at the response time and that I consistently appeared to be busy enough to not have to take on additional work.

That's when my stupid big fat mouth had to open up and request to "take on additional responsibility and expand on the scope of my job." So now I'm looking down at the two-page list of things I need to complete before the beginning of our biggest trade show in April and want to punch myself in the face. But hey, I guess at least I know I'll have a job until April... and the rent will get paid... and the bling-bling will get blingier. With things looking the way they are, I guess job security's not the worst thing in the world to have on your side.

In sharp contrast to the above I spent my entire Tuesday sitting on my ass. Or laying with my ass kinda turned to the side in a fetal-ish position. Either way, I made like Garfield, watching an insane amount of television, eating takeout and delivery food for two of my three meals, and thinking about not much more than whether I felt like listening to M83 or The Frames. Marissa joined in on the laziness, which was certainly welcome. Lounging around is a whole lot more fun when you've got someone equally as enamored with the idea as you are. Enamored, I've always liked that word.

If you live in the Northeast I hope you're keeping warm... as hard as that might seem. Suggestions: Grab coffee with someone who is coffee-companion material. Pick up yourself a book and get the coffee anyway if you can't find that companion. Wear scarves and make sure you know the best way from point A to point B, allowing for as little 'outside time' as possible. And last but not least, don't waste your time reading the ramblings of a caffeine-driven almost 23 year old fool. Cheers! --

"Toot-toot!" That's the sound of my own horn being.. umm... tooted by myself. Tooting your own horn is a sure-fire way to find something to regret later I suppose, but regardless, I'd like my tooting to be noted throughout this vast virtual world that I am becoming re-acquainted with now that I am back on the 9-5. Why all of this tooting, you ask? Just little things. Little things like how incredible my new computer speakers sound while playing 'Mississauga Theme' by Girls Are Short or 'The Strong Suit' by Cex, or the fact that coming back to a dirty, gray, loud city can bring a wider smile to my face than the quiet and clean suburbs, the way two beers at the local bar on what would've been an otherwise boring evening can lead to a happily sleepless night, the fact that my boss handed me the belated Christmas gift of a mix CD filled with the likes of The Constantines, Bob Dylan, and The Rapture. Not even the freezing rain pounding down on my bare face could take the spring out of my step this morning. Why not? Maybe just being happy to be alive is enough sometimes. --

2003, the year consisting of the tail end my 21st and first half of my 22nd years on this planet is officially over, and I'd say that it ended fittingly: four Bud Lights (one on the PATH), one glass of Pinot Grigio, one shot of of Southern Comfort and Lime, three Sierra Nevadas, one Red Bull and Vodka, five gin and tonics, one rum and Coke, and two Sapporos. 18 drinks in the course of one, extremely dizzying Manhattan evening. In addition to it being the end of the year, it also marked the end of my three week bender in which I intoxicated myself just about every single evening. No real reason in particular, just a lot of free time on my hands and possibly a need to make up for all of those weekend evenings I spent working this past fall. At any rate, the bender's over and the year is over. 2004 will find me graduating, moving to God knows where, taking a job somewhere, purchasing an automobile, and essentially starting the next phase of my life. Nothing else is certain, but I'm hoping that the new year brings a slightly less tumultuous time for me. I could do without the car wrecks, burning apartments, knife-point stick ups and ... well, living in Cleveland. So 2004, what the fuck you got? My stomach, liver, and heart might be a bit battered at present... but I promise that they will soon heal, and then, biatch, you're going fuckin' down!